


Black Fingernails

by brightlikeloulou



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anger, Angst, Child Abuse, Crushes, Dark, First Kiss, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Misunderstandings, Scars, Self-Harm, Teenage Daryl & Jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlikeloulou/pseuds/brightlikeloulou
Summary: Daryl was obsessed with the boy in his English class who never spoke and painted his fingernails black.





	Black Fingernails

**Author's Note:**

> I was meant to go to sleep, but instead this idea came out of nowhere and I had to write it.

Daryl watched him saunter into the classroom late like he usually did, ripped black skinny jeans, boots, a black t-shirt that showed off impressive arms. Long hair tied messily on top of his head, an impressive beard for an eighteen-year-old on his jaw.

He re-painted his nails Daryl noticed. They were chipped the day before, exposing the natural pink color of his fingernails. Today, no pink was to be seen, just shiny black.

"You're late Mr. Rovia," Mrs. Peletier scolded him, a frown on her face as she looked at him.

Paul, or Jesus as everyone else called him, didn't say anything, as he usually did, just sat himself down in the seat beside Daryl's own, as he did every day. He dropped his worn army print backpack down onto the ground beside his legs, the metal water bottle on the side making a clinking sound as he connected with the floor, and Mrs. Peleiter glared at the noise.

Daryl watched how his lips puffed out when he huffed, how he then licked them and rested one of his hands on the surface on the table, settling down without even getting out his notebook.

Paul began to tap the pads of his fingers on the surface on the table.

Daryl wondered how he painted his fingernails so neatly, none of the black paint was on the skin around his nails. There were no smears or uneven areas, it was all smooth and perfect looking.

The rest of his hands were nice too, pale like the rest of him, and soft looking. Daryl wanted to know what it would feel like in his own, even though he knew that his father would kill him for the thought alone.

Daryl's eyes moved to the pink scar that ran along the top of his hand. Daryl  
wondered if the rest of the boy's body, like his own, was a disturbing canvas of uneven, purple or sometimes pink, scar tissue. He at least knew that part of him was.

He wondered how he got the scar, was it an accident, did someone do it to him, did he do it to himself? Daryl had seen the pale pink lines on the inside of the boy's wrists a couple of times when he rolled his sleeves up. Daryl recognized them, how they were too perfectly straight, too cleanly done, too evenly spread out, to be done by anything other than Paul's own hand. Daryl knew because his own thighs were littered in those same marks.

His eyes moved to Paul's face next, he had a nice view of his side profile. His lips were pink and plump, and Daryl wanted to press his own against them, just to know what they felt like, maybe brush his fingertips over them. His stomach stirred only at the thought.

He had a nice nose too, it was wide at the bottom, but adorably upturned, something that Daryl had noticed the first day he had sat down next to him.

Daryl really liked his eyebrows, they seemed expressive. The hair was thick and grew uneven when it came to the edges, giving them a wild messy look. But that was okay, Daryl liked messy. He also liked Paul's ears, they were apparently big, tall and sticking out from his head, but Daryl thought that they complimented the rest of his features.

Daryl preferred his hair when it was out because it was easier to imagine running his fingers through it that way, but when it was up, Daryl could see his face a little better. So there were benefits were both, he supposed.

Before Daryl knew what was happening, Jesus had turned his head and was looking right at him. His brows pulled together, and his lips moved into a frown.

Daryl felt his cheeks heat up like the summer sun, and his stomach flared with humiliation and embarrassment as he turned away and looked to the front of the classroom. He wondered if there was any way Paul hadn't seen him looking, but then mentally slapped himself for being so stupid, of course, he saw him, his eyes looked right into his own.

His eyes, those were possibly the prettiest thing about him, Daryl thought, he had never looked directly into them before then. They were a shade Daryl couldn't quite decide on, something between blue and green.

He got lost in his thoughts until the bell rang, freeing them for lunch. Paul was the first one out of the classroom as he usually was.

 

* * *

  

After going to his lunchtime detention that he had copped for swearing at a teacher the day previous, Daryl made his way to the area behind the science building that he used to smoke.

When he got there, he didn't expect to be grabbed by the collar of his ratty shirt and shoved up against the brick wall of the building.

He gasped in surprise and was about to struggle before he realised who was holding him.

The blue-green eyes of Paul Rovia bored into his own, a scowl on his face and Daryl looked down, found those fingers with black painted nails wrapped around the material of his shirt.

"What the fuck were you staring at me for, Dixon?" Paul hissed, a scowl spread over his features. He shoved him a little again, and his face hardened even further.

Daryl opened his mouth to try and talk, but stuttered, the lump in his throat too thick for him to speak around. His heart was pounding in his chest due to how close Paul was to him, he could feel the heat of his body pressing against his own.

"Well?" Paul pressed.

Daryl realised that this may be the first time he's heard the boy talk, as English was the only class he had with him, and Mrs. Peletier wasn't one for forcing students to read out loud or participate in class discussions. Paul had only been around for a couple of months anyway.

"I-" Daryl began, found his mouth ridiculously dry, and he shook his head slightly to toss his bangs out of his eyes.

"It's really not that hard of a question," Paul said, he sounded pissed now, getting impatient as he continued to press him against the wall.

Daryl swallowed, tried to get some saliva in his mouth and then tried again, "You're different," He managed to get out.

Paul frowned even further, "What the fuck does that mean?" He said, rolling his eyes a moment later before looking at him again, "Different because I'm a faggot? That what you mean? The fucking sight of me astounds you?" He sounded real' angry now, and if Daryl didn't get his shit together, he knew he'd probably have a forming black eye by the time lunch was over.

"No!" Daryl exclaimed, and somewhere in the back of his head, 'you're like him too' was whispered, "I don't know," He said, breathing heavily now, talking to people had never been his strong suit, "You're just different,"

Paul glared at him hard, didn't break eye contact for several long moments before he finally let go of Daryl, removing himself from his space and taking a couple of steps back. He watched him for a few moments longer and then turned to look out at the woods in front of them.

Daryl took deep breaths and followed the movement of Paul reaching into his pocket, pulling out a lighter and cigarette, putting them both back a few moments later and lifting the cigarette to his lips.

Daryl stayed behind him, simply looking at Paul. He watched how the strands of hair that were loose from the boy's bun fluttered in the afternoon breeze. Smoke swirled around Paul from his cigarette, keeping its shape for a few moments before it got lost in the wind until only the scent was left behind.

They both stood in silence for the couple of moments it took for Paul to finish his cigarette. Daryl wasn't quite sure why he stayed, why he didn't leave and find another place to smoke.

Paul's head turned, and within a few moments, he was looking at him again.

Daryl swallowed as their eyes met, awkwardly fiddling with his hands. He noticed that Paul looked much calmer, his face relaxed, apart from a slight pull of his brows.

"Is different a good thing or a bad thing?" Paul asked, throwing his smoke to the ground and putting it out with his foot.

Daryl realised that his voice was much more pleasant now that he wasn't angry. It was gentler, the tone pleasant, and Daryl wondered if it was possible for something to sound how honey tasted.

Daryl blinked at Paul for a few moments, before he cleared his throat, "Uh..." He mumbled, and then mentally rolled his eyes at himself, "Good," He got out a few seconds later.

Paul hummed and then looked at him for a while before he spoke again, "You a faggot too?" he asked.

Daryl's brows raised and his stomach churned because even though he knew deep down that he was, in fact, gay, he had never heart it out loud before.

Daryl swallowed thickly, and stuttered some more, "I- I don't,"

Paul chuckled softly, his lips turning up just slightly at the corners, and then made his way over to him.

Daryl's heart rate felt like it doubled when Paul got in his space again, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him until his back connected with the brick building again.

Paul's eyes, ridiculously gorgeous eyes penetrated his own, and Daryl's stomach swirled in excited and confused butterflies.

Seconds later, Paul leaned forward and pressed their lips together, and Daryl gasped, jumping a little when the hand that wasn't on his chest reached up and cupped his jaw.

Paul kissed him softly at first, but then deepened the kiss. After stewing in his initial shock for several moments, Daryl closed his eyes and began to kiss back.

The thought that someone could walk around the corner and see them at any time was present in Daryl's mind, but he couldn't focus on it too much, not when Paul's amazing lips were on his own.

Paul pried his lips apart with his tongue and then slipped it inside of Daryl's mouth. The action drew a small whine out of Daryl, and he desperately tried to keep up with Paul's intense kiss. It was obvious that he had done it before, and that he had skill in the area, but Daryl, however, had never been kissed before in his life, and no idea what he was doing.

The bell for the end of lunch rang all too soon, bringing a stop to their make-out session. Paul pulled his mouth off Daryl's and moved few centimeters back, Daryl whimpered softly, a sound like a wounded animal and usually, he'd be embarrassed, but his mind was too foggy at that moment.

He tried to chase after Paul, he desperately wanted to kiss him again, to feel the softness of his lips, the heat of his mouth, the wetness of his saliva, the control of his tongue. Paul allowed him to do so, leaning forward again and giving Daryl a few more short seconds of bliss before he moved away entirely, his hands dropping from Daryl's chest and jaw. Daryl immediately missed the pressure of having them there.

"Well?" Paul said.

Daryl forced his eyes open, found them surprisingly watery as he stared at the other boy. Paul's lips were pinker than usual, and a little swollen, Daryl swallowed thickly when he realised why.

Daryl couldn't bring himself to say anything, he just blinked. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he swore he could still feel Paul's mouth against his own.

Paul chuckled softly and then stepped over to where his backpack was resting against the trunk of a tree.

"Have a think about it, Daryl," He said as he tossed the backpack on, coming to a stop again just in front of him, "Tonight, think about me," He told him, smirking and petting his chest before he disappeared around the corner.

 

* * *

 

And he did, later that day, late at night, he lied in his bed, blood trickling down one side of his face, his body throbbing, his father snoring in the next room over, he thought about Paul.

He thought about the mysterious boy with pretty eyes and painted black fingernails, and how he was desperate to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are loved and inspire me to write more! Xx
> 
> Tumblr - iiloulouii


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